


Love is a losing game

by sacredsweets



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sakusa Kiyoomi-centric, Sakusa is stupid and gay, Unrequited Love, no happy ending, pretentious bullshit, title is an amy winehouse song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25228996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacredsweets/pseuds/sacredsweets
Summary: For the first time in his life, Kiyoomi felt his heart blossom, and shatter, all at once.On the roof of the grey MSBY Black Jackals’ apartment building, stood two boys baring their hearts. Kiyoomi, to Atsumu. Atsumu, to the memory of another.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	Love is a losing game

**Author's Note:**

> hello, this is my first fic; i havent written ever since i graduated taking mandatory english classes and neither have i written outside of said english classes but i hope u enjoy this anyway :)

Falling for Atsumu was as easy as carrying a mountain on your back. Kiyoomi mused about just what it was. The little things, he decided. The little things, the fragments, the brief, intangible moments that are forgotten to those who do not cherish them with all that they have.

The way Atsumu hums a familiar tune (not skilfully, Kiyoomi might add, but in his heart he knows it means all that much more) when he wraps bandages around his fingers, calloused from the years and years of pouring his heart into each ball he tossed. His hands weren’t slender, and his index fingers were crooked. His hands carried so many flaws, so why did Kiyoomi want to hold onto them, intertwine his fingers with Atsumu’s own, and never let go?

(Because he’s in love, a small voice adds. Kiyoomi shushes it, and continues his train of thought.)  
The way Atsumu breathes in deeply, taking in the air that surrounds him, whether court’s an orange wood or synthetic urethane, before he fragments his soul into the pieces that become his famed serves. To some, he’s a genius, a monster, but Kiyoomi knows better than anyone, how Atsumu loses himself in the meticulosity of perfecting his every step, in doing his utmost and then some to make his teammates shine.  


(Atsumu isn’t a monster, he’s just a boy who never felt like he was enough.)

(And Kiyoomi just wants to hold him, and let him know that he’s so much more than this world has ever deserved.)

The way Atsumu’s eyes betray his façade, so carefully built up over his years of being. His eyes, the window to his vulnerability, show him. The him that’s been tucked away from the grasps of the volatile world and its beings. The him that Kiyoomi would give so much to protect, to cherish, to see in full bloom. Atsumu’s eyes betray the snide of his mouth, and Kiyoomi never wants to look anywhere else.

(Atsumu’s heart is erratic, yet goes the furthest for what he reveres. It crumbles and builds itself back up when the moon is hung high amongst the stars. Kiyoomi had always envied his resilience, but now just wants to accompany him through the process.) 

Kiyoomi sighs deeply and twists shut the locker room’s shower faucet. His fingers are pruney and his brain is more muddled than it was before he entered the stall. Droplets fall from his hair strands. Some trickle to the floor and some glide gently across his skin. He allows himself to stare at the wall a beat longer before grabbing a towel and exiting the small space entirely.

Most of the members are gone by now, just Atsumu in his equally wet glory, sitting at a bench cramming his bag full, turns his head and keens at Kiyoomi’s re-entrance. 

“Omi-kun! What took ya so long?” he said, before wiggling his eyebrows and adding, “Jus’ what were ya doing in there?”

Kiyoomi shoots him a look akin to how one would view a museum display of a 19th century barrel filled with ancient shit, then hurriedly dons a facemask and decidedly keeps walking.

“OMI WAIT!“ 

Kiyoomi attempts to speed up but Atsumu catches up to settle into a comfortable stride beside him. If Kiyoomi looked at the floor and inconspicuously tried to match his pace with Atsumu’s, that’s between him and God.

With a determined stare and an expectant lilt to his voice, Atsumu vocalized.

“So, there’s this lil party tonight Shouyou-kun wanted to host to celebrate our last win. It’s just gonna be the team and-”

“No.”

Atsumu jogs up and sidesteps to effectively block Kiyoomi’s path. Feigning perhaps the biggest puppy-eyed expression he could muster, through a pout, he whines out a “But Omi-Omi”, stretching out the last syllable as much as humanly possible until Kiyoomi takes it upon himself to end pouty Atsumu’s reign of terror.

With great resistance to both the reflexive reactions of throwing up or kissing him, Kiyoomi sighs in resignation under Atsumu’s anticipatory eyes and mutters a fine. Atsumu’s giddy fist-pump and wide grin following his acceptance is exactly what was expected, but Kiyoomi can’t help but smile a little under the protection of his mask anyway.

-

The said party, more so a gathering at a communal room in the dorm, acts as an excuse for some members to clean up and look too good for their own good. Some members means Miya Atsumu, his crisp, white dress shirt and dazzling smile that makes Kiyoomi feel a little dizzy.

The MSBY members sit at the dark oak dining table and pass drinks until Bokuto speeds through the building and back to the room at the sound of his phone ringing, signifying the arrival of their ordered takeout. 

Kiyoomi ends up drinking a little more than he’d care to admit, but in his defense, it was inevitable with the way his night started with Atsumu sitting next to him, leaning in (he smelled like peonies) just a little and confessing his heartfelt glee at Kiyoomi joining them tonight. His heart flowers a little more and his rosy cheeks betray him at the sight of Atsumu’s genuine grin, directed all towards him.

Throughout the so-called party, Kiyoomi finds himself loosening up all too much, for his own standards at least, maybe it’s because of the pleasant buzz in his nerves, maybe it’s because of the way Atsumu indulges him. 

Everyone and everything becomes background music to the words dancing between Kiyoomi and Atsumu. The world stops around them to make way for another narration slipping from Kiyoomi’s lips. Atsumu’s stare pierces his heart.

Tipsy Kiyoomi is only a tad stupid, but drunk Kiyoomi wears his heart on his sleeve.

When the conversation stirs to first loves and Atsumu invites him to the rooftop, Kiyoomi nods faster than he ever has in his life. Atsumu straightens from his chair and turns to the rest of the team, declaring that he’s going to get some fresh air but the drunk group barely pays heed. He’s about to get offended but pauses mid-dialogue to shake his head exasperatedly and walk away. Kiyoomi follows.

-

The crescent centered in a midnight blue holds itself high amongst an assembly of specks scintillating around it. Clusters form and they align. But the demilune only gleams brighter. Almost intimidatingly, menacingly. It glares down at Kiyoomi and Kiyoomi glares back. 

The moon tonight reminds him of Atsumu.

A giggle snatches him out of a trance. “Omi-kun, why are ya lookin’ at the moon like it spat on your shoes?”

Kiyoomi snaps his gaze away in poorly hidden embarrassment and merely urges Atsumu to continue their foregoing exchange.

The present setting washes over Kiyoomi like a town flooding. Him and Atsumu, alone, under the midnight cold. One-to-one, hearts stripped bare, walls eroded by moonshine. Atsumu starts.

“So, uhm, my first love-“

Atsumu turns away and lets out a laugh colored by humiliation. “This has been weighin’ heavy on me far too much, sorry, do ya wanna m-maybe-“

“Spit it out already.” Kiyoomi says, a tad too hesitant, a tad too concerned. A tad hopeful.

The voice at the back of his head is perking up, coming closer.

“Do ya wanna say it at the same time..? Instead of in turns?”

Kiyoomi’s bones run cold. His heart hammers, suffocatingly. Adrenaline kicks in and makes his limbs jittery. There’s no backup to fall onto now. There’s no safety net.

The voice takes over. Now or never. 

“Okay.” 

“3. 2. 1.”

“You-“ 

“KITA! I mean I dunno, what if it wasn’t really love bu- wait, what did ya say?”

Atsumu sobers up and stares. He stares straight into Kiyoomi, lips agape, eyes blown wide. Even if he tried to speak, Kiyoomi wouldn’t hear him. Dread, remorse, realization all thunders in his ears at once. 

He feels small. He feels stupid. He feels like he’s ruined the present, the future - what is, what could’ve been. All destroyed by what isn’t. Everything crawls up on him, from his end to his beginning. A statue just corroded by acid, a thousand ants crawling up every square inch of his skin.

In slow washes, Kiyoomi relinquishes. His heart shutters when he tries to match Atsumu’s gaze, so he chooses to look up at the hollow ceiling encompassing him, hung with stars.

The moon tonight weeps for him.

**Author's Note:**

> please tell me if u liked it <3


End file.
